Recently, we were in the car, and we passed a construction site. "Look, Elijah!" I said. "There's an excavator and a backhoe loader!" Then I told him that the reason I knew what those were called is because he had shown an interest in construction equipment and so we had gotten some books to look at. I learned the correct names from his book. (I used to call all of them bulldozers.) I said, "So, I learned something because of you! Even grown-ups learn. Did you know that?"
This off-hand comment has stuck with me. Even grown-ups learn.
You would have to be hiding under a rock not to see that the topic of race has been at the forefront of our culture recently. When I first saw phrases like "white privilege," I was offended. I didn't feel particularly privileged. When I first saw the hashtag, #BlackLivesMatter, I didn't understand why that was necessary because, after all, #AllLivesMatter.
But even grown-ups learn.
I struggled with these concepts. I read the articles that my friends posted on Facebook. I googled the phrases I didn't understand and found a lot of resources that helped explain these topics. Even after gaining a basic understanding of these concepts, I still felt lost. What was my role in all of this, as a white woman who does her best to treat everyone with respect? I did not personally engage in the slave trade, I did not request to be born white, I don't tolerate racist speech or behaviors; so what was my role? How was my whiteness contributing to continued racism in our country?
Even grown-ups learn.
I continued (am continuing) digging. I continued (am continuing) reading. I learned (am learning) about micro-aggression. I learned (am learning) about tone policing. I learned (am learning) about cultural appropriation. I learned (am learning) that context is of utmost importance. I learned that while intentions are important, how your comments make another person feel is even more important. This is, after all, the basis for politeness - and polite is something I strive to be. Even if I don't intend to be rude by calling someone by his or her first name, he or she may nonetheless still feel offended by not being called Mr. or Mrs. The first time I'm guilty of offending someone this way, yes, it is innocent and born of ignorance. If it were to happen a second time? It would be flat-out rude, because the person had told me that it was offensive to them. So, whether you intend for a comment to be racist, if someone of that race says that it's racist and offensive - it is. Just because you don't understand why, just because you don't understand the context or the history, doesn't make it NOT racist. It just means you need to learn why it's racist and make the choice not to be offensive again.
I still struggled with coming to terms with seeing the bigger picture. I realized that I was struggling because "racism" feels like such an inflammatory, loaded term. The word automatically makes me defensive: "I'M NOT RACIST." So, remembering the explanation about consent that was made by using drinking tea as an example, I stepped back and decided to think of an example in different terms that aren't quite so charged with emotion.
So, I'm short. Like, incredibly short. You would be hard-pressed to find a person over the age of 10 who is shorter than I am.
You've all seen this picture, and I'm here to tell you - the struggle is real. While trying to reach glasses out of my kitchen cabinet, or trying to reach items out of my shopping cart to put them on the counter at the checkout, or having seat belts rub my neck, or while never being able to get my seat in the car comfortable, or my feet not touching the floor when I sit in a chair, or while realizing that I can see up yet another person's nose (please blow your noses more often, people!), I have often thought to myself, in a rather irritated manner, "THIS WORLD WAS NOT MADE FOR SHORT PEOPLE!!"
I didn't ask to be short. It's not something I can change. Sometimes I need help reaching things - whether from a friendly tall person at the grocery store who can reach the box of cereal I need that is inexplicably ONLY on the top shelf or from the step stool that my dad bought me so that I can reach things in my own kitchen. I have often thought to myself, "Instead of people giggling at my inability to reach things or smiling at me indulgently, it would be nice if they would just help me and move on!" (Thanks for the step stool, Dad!)
Using the example of being short in a world not made for short people has helped de-mystify a lot of the things that seemingly sound counter-intuitive when they are applied to race. "Pro-black isn't anti-white." (Just because I am short doesn't mean I am anti-tall.) "Historically black colleges and universities are not racist." (Just because it's more comfortable for me to be around short people doesn't mean I'm anti-tall.) "Today's white people have grown up in a world where they have opportunities not open to people of color." (Just because I didn't ask to be born short doesn't mean I'm not still affected by living in a world where most people are not short.)
And believe me, I understand that my experiences as a short person do not in any way compare to the experiences of people of color. I'm not likely to be shot by a police officer for being short. My biggest aggravations are not being able to reach things and having people taller than I am thinking it's funny to pick me up. I don't have to worry that my family will be targeted by anti-short "heightists". But, having this non-emotionally charged example has helped me understand in a more real way a lot of the issues I was struggling with in understanding what my black friends are saying. I'm not saying I have a perfect understanding of these issues. I recognize that I still have a long way to go. I recognize that the struggles I'm facing in understanding all of this could be thought of as "growing pains." Growth can be painful and challenging and irritating.
But even grown-ups can learn. So please don't give up on me.
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